


the time kurapika calls back

by ChuckyJohn



Category: Hunter X Hunter
Genre: M/M, everybody has anxiety, it's kraps not pika, kraps ignores leorios phone calls, softcore leopika
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-18
Updated: 2018-01-18
Packaged: 2019-03-06 08:48:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,095
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13407672
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChuckyJohn/pseuds/ChuckyJohn
Summary: 3 am.  What would he have to say at this hour of the night?...Surely nothing good.





	the time kurapika calls back

**Author's Note:**

> ##** Disclaimer: I haven't finished reading HxH and wrote this a few months ago when I hadn't even STARTED to read it. I watched half the 2011 anime in 2015 and have learned everything else through osmosis. All I'm saying is that my characterization definitely isn't up to snuff, but I'm also definitely never coming back to spruce this up, so here it is! **##
> 
> I have AVPD and anxiety which lead to actions that aren't exactly logical all the time. This is kinda based on that.

Kurapika has been avoiding Leorio’s calls for a long time.  He distinctly remembers the first time that he did it intentionally- he hadn’t been handling anything pressing or in public.  His phone had buzzed and lit up his bedside, drawing his eye away from the city lights outside of his hotel room window that he’d been staring at while trying- and failing- to sleep, as always.  He rolled over to grasp it, taking in the caller ID:  _ Leorio Paladiknight _ .  His thumb had hovered over the “accept call” button, but he had stalled.  

_ 3 am.  What would he have to say at this hour of the night?   _

Bzzt.

_ Surely nothing good. _

Bzzt.

Kurapika felt heavy.  His thoughts began at a leak and were soon a rushing torrent of anxiety.  He could see before his eyes broken bones, bloodied hands, skulls cracked open.  Gon?  Or Killua?  Leorio himself, somehow?  Emptied eye sockets and gasping mouths.

Kurapika’s other hand knots in his sheets.   _ I can’t handle any more.  No more bad news.   _ His breath comes shallow.  _  No more weight. _

The phone in his hand vibrated a few more beats before stilling and going dark.  He sets it down on the nightstand where it had been, but this time face down.

_ Whatever the news was, be it Gon or Killua’s health, some kind of disaster, a tragedy- it would be the same tomorrow, from this distance. _

He’d fallen into a restless sleep, dreaming of fog, blood pooling on tile, and the piercing scent of sterility and fluorescent lighting of a hospital.

When the morning shone through his window and across his eyelids, forcing him to wake and face the world at hand, he felt incredibly empty.  Not a hunger or thirst, but a concavity nonetheless.   _ Time for more sorrow _ , he figured, but the words felt hollow.  His arm was oh so heavy, but manageable.

_ “New message received”  _ blinked onto the screen.  Kurapika pressed play, holding his breath.

A moment passed, before a gruff but low “...hey,” meets his ears.  Kurapika blinked.

“I know it’s really late.  Not quite as late here as where you are, but, it’s…” Leorio trails off a moment.  “Anyway, I was thinking about you today.”

_ Oh. _

“I was sitting in this coffee house- it’s one of my favorite places to go now, even if some of their shit is overpriced to hell and it draws in a shitty crowd, if you go at just the right time it’s- well, anyway, I saw someone there who looked a lot like you.  For a moment, I even got excited! ...  But it wasn’t.

“Anyway, this evening it made me think, that I could talk to you!  The phone was right at my fingertips, so here I am.  Hello.  I was hoping I’d reach you at a ‘free but awake’ moment, but I guess not.  Anyway, I’ve been…”

Kurapika had been absolutely taken aback by how seamlessly Leorio transitioned into drabble about his day.  It had been months since they’d seen each other last- Kurapika thought of his slouching, bow-legged stance, his jacket thrown over his shoulder, his low “Yo” in greeting- months since a genuine  _ casual conversation _ .  Prior calls had been quick and, forcedly so by Kurapika, to the point.

The truth was, phone calls stressed him out.  In the flesh he could often rouse from within himself something smart to quip or at the very least an insult, but while on the phone, the soft static across the line reverberated into a deafening thunder in his ears and he found himself frozen.

“...So, anyway, Kurapika, I… I hope that you’re doing well.  I’m sure that there’s nothing the big city can throw at you that you can’t handle.  But- you’ve been on my mind.  Call me back sometime, if you can.  Caio.”

The gold-lit hotel room around him suddenly felt overwhelmingly still.  Despite it, something in his chest grew, and it ached, but it also felt very warm.

After that, Kurapika had listened to the message near every night.  Leorio’s voice was not, on its own, pleasant to listen to, per se.  At least, not in a way he could label.  It was the familiarity of it that made him feel, momentarily, as if he wasn’t caught up and in leagues with criminals of a high caliber.  As if, for a second, he was still just a young man on a righteous mission, no lines yet crossed, rules still unbroken.  It felt simpler.  It felt  _ good _ .

One night a week or so later, when Kurapika was half-way through Leorio’s dramatic recounting of a fight he’d seen on the street, the phone vibrated while pressed against his cheek, startling him enough to cause him to drop it onto the bed.  

_ Incoming call… … … Leorio Paladiknight… … … _

Once again, Kurapika finds his thumb hovering over the button that could start a connection, that could bridge all the miles between them in an instant.  He does not press it.  Instead, anxiously, he waits for the phone to still.  Waits for the screen to darken.  Bites back the stomach-churning anticipation of the words “new message received”.  When they blink onto his screen, he kneads his lip between his teeth.

This becomes his new ritual.

He feels bad about it, really.  Guilt looms over him, when he lets it- scolding him for leaving his friend hanging, letting him talk all his news and his thoughts and his problems into the soulless static of the receiver.  It clutches him and shoves him towards dialing in the number of his friend in moments of lull, but he never presses the button that would seal the deal.

Once, when Leorio calls, the notification pops up hastier than usual.  Kurapika only gets through a hurried “Kurapika, pl-” before the buzzing begins again.  It startles him enough for him to decline the call.

A moment later the screen lights up with a text.

_ Leorio Paladiknight: Are you alright? _

Texting isn’t something he’s fond of, but he is capable.

_ Yes, Leorio.  Talk soon. _

He knows very well that the words are empty, but he sends them anyway.

More time passes like this than Kurapika cares to admit.  The anticipation of a call from Leorio becomes a lifeline.  When he gets antsy, Kurapika placates him with a comforting but dismissive text.  Leorio, somehow, isn’t dissuaded.  If anything, the calls come in more frequently, and at different times of the day.  Sometimes Kurapika can hear Leorio moving around or working, be it shuffling through papers or running water in some sink somewhere.  Once, the one-sided conversation is halted as the phone at the other end of the line clatters to the ground.  Leorio’s cussing is heard in the distance before the sound of footsteps and a warm “sorry.”  The normalcy of it, the sheer  _ domesticity _ fills him with something he has trouble naming.

He feels bad about it, but not bad enough.  One night, however, his hand is forced.

The call comes later than usual.  It wakes Kurapika up.  His eyes blurred and heavy with sleep, he barely makes out the time.  It had to be near three in the morning where Leorio was- what was he doing up so late?

Momentarily, Kurapika felt the same terror as before rip through him.  He sits up in bed and clutches the phone in his hand until it stills.  The message comes soon, too soon: the shifting fabric or paper, things either glass or ceramic knocking together, and some sniffling.  The man sighs,  _ sobs _ , and chokes out “Kura-” before the recording drops.

_ Oh gods. _

Kurapika stands.  His fingers are dialling in the numbers as quickly as he possibly can.

It feels like the ringing lasts forever.

Just when Kurapika feels high enough on anxiety to jet out of the hotel room through the window, Leorio answers his phone.

“Leorio!  Leorio?”

“Kr…” a croak, followed by a sniffle.  “Kura?  Kurapika?”

“Yes,” Kurapika breathes,  “yes.  Leorio, are you-”

“Oh Kraps!!!!” the man on the line practically bawls.  “ _ Oh Kraps _ , oh Kur-, oh, you called.”

“Are you alright, Leorio?” Kurapika near-snaps.  “Why are you crying?”

“I’m sorry,” he slurs, “I’m sorry.  I’ve been, ah, I been out… drinking, a lot, I think.”

Kurapika’s brows knit but his clenched jaw slackens.  “And you’re  _ crying _ ?”

“I wanted to talk to you.   _ To _ .  Not,” he blubbers, “not  _ at _ .”

Kurapika feels as if his lungs collapse.  His face grows hot with shame.

“Leorio, I-”

“Non, no- you don’ gotta explain anything, Kurapi… Ku-raps.  I understand.  I dun wanna bother you-u.  I jus’, I just have been thinkin’, a lot.”  Something slams.  “ _ Tu-hoo _ much.  And I need to tell you.”

Kurapika finds himself standing in the bathroom of his hotel room, facing himself in the mirror.  It’s not the nicest room he’s ever stayed in.  It’s seedy, to be straight.  The stains in the shower make him itch.  The smudges across the mirror make his skin crawl.  The shuffling through the phone pressed to his ear draws him out from himself.

“Alright, Leorio.  Tell me.”

“I love you.  Do you know that?”

The room feels too bright.  Kurapika braces himself on the sink.  It’s heavy.

“Leorio, you aren’t in a right frame of mind.  If you stay up you are going to hurt yourself.  I think you should drink some water for a change and put yourself to bed.”

“Well yeah, _ Kraps _ , I’m workin’ on it.  M’ home.  You think a up-n-comin’ doctor don’t know how to handle his drinks?” he barks.  “Undressing with one hand ain’t  _ easy _ .  Gimme a second.” 

Kurapika feels himself flush.  A soft fwump, and silence.   _ He must be in bed now _ , Kurapika thinks.  For a moment, he thinks that Leorio might have passed out that fast, but then the sniffling starts again.

“M’sorry.  M’sorry.   _ But why don’t you ever call me back?! _ ” Leorio  _ explodes _ .  “I been calling you  _ every week _ , Kraps, every goddamned week and sometimes more for a  _ year _ .  A year!  And I can’t get a call back?!  You can not possibly be that busy.  Sometimes I’ll be, I’ll be doing somethin’ like walkin’ to the store or be at work or, fuck, just taking a goddamn dump, and I’ll stop in my tracks and think to myself, _ oh boy, but what if Kurapika hasn’t called because he’s dead?  What then?  Whaddo I do?   _ And I get scared outta my skin, Kurapika!  I gotta take a breather before I leap right outta it!  I had to hole up in the furniture section of the grocery store for forty-five goddamn minutes a few weeks ago.  I was late to a meetin’.  I was so sc- scared-” 

The anger breaks and through the cracks seep more sobs.

_ Sinking.   _ Kurapika’s knuckles are white as he grips the sinks countertop.  He feels ill.

“I was  _ so _ scared that your body was out there somewhere in a ditch- or an alley I guess- mangled and cold, or even worse yet,  _ bleedin’ out and gettin’ colder _ , with me over here.  Here n’ lost.  N’ I need you to know.”  His voice softens from tumbling granite to sheer satin in all of a second.  “That, I love you a lot, Kurapika.”

“...Leorio…” It was practically just shape to an exhale.

“Kurapika.  I love you.  N’, and Gon loves you- that kid asks about you  _ so often _ !” Kurapika hears a ruffle and snort that he figures is Leorio wiping his nose on his sleeve.  “And Killua- well, he’s a bit of a shit, y’know, but I’m sure he cares.  Th… they love yuh, and I do too.  I love you  _ so much _ that I  _ can’t take it _ when I think- think about…”

Kurapika stops him.  “I love you too, Leorio,” he forces off his dry tongue.  He swallows.  “And I’m sorry, for not calling you back.  And I’m sorry for not being sorry enough earlier.  I luh…”

The line fills with deafening shifting of fabric.

“Kraps, I love you,” Leorio murmurs.  He sounds like he’s fading off.

“And I love you.  I will call you.”

The only thing that comes through is the sound of breathing, slow, deem, and rhythmic.

Kurapika isn’t sure about the legitimacy of what he says.  Phone calls scare him, after all.   _ He won’t remember this anyway.   _ His hands are clammy and gut taught with all kinds of tangled feelings and he feels somehow even worse at the thought.   _ But I can text, _ he thinks.  

What he does know is that, of all the things swirling around in him that make him think that he might just vomit in the sink right then, one is definite, and that is love.


End file.
